


Marmalade

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Ficlet, M/M, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-08
Updated: 2015-08-08
Packaged: 2018-04-13 13:41:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4524174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dwalin walks in on what he thought were the two innocents of their party.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Marmalade

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fill for applea’s “Dwalin get's turned on by Bilbo/Ori, seeing two shy and gentle folks kissing and desperately moaning because they know if they tease their big strong warrior he'll pounce and give them what they want. Bilbo/Ori like each other, but they like the strong and rough loving Dwalin gives them and then the aftercare of feeling so safe in his arms. If you want to go the sex!pollen route, Bilbo and Ori get hit with sex pollen and Dwalin can't resist joining in after he's gotten a good long look” prompt on [the Hobbit Kink Meme](http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/10731.html?thread=22680299#t22680299).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Hobbit or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

The sun seems to do the others good, but Dwalin has less care for flowers. He wanders back to the barn early, partially out of boredom and partially out of wonder where the rest of their company has gotten to. The two cutest members were missed at lunch, and though Nori had a gleam in his eye when he insisted they were fine, Dwalin can’t help his worry. He’s been trying to keep an eye out for Ori from the beginning, Ori being the smallest dwarf and the only one who came without a weapon, and now Dwalin feels a certain duty to keep Thorin’s special burglar in one piece as well. 

At first, they don’t seem to be in the barn, at least, not right out in the front, though the place is scattered wide with oversized piles of hay, huge, like everything in Beorn’s lands. Dwalin’s just about to leave when he hears a sudden gasp, and it leads him down towards the shady end. 

When he turns the corner at the back, he finds Ori and Bilbo seated in the hay. They’re sitting so close together that they’re almost in each other’s laps, a small jar of honey open between them, cloaks and vests discarded for simple, rumpled tunics, and honey-slicked fingers disappearing between their mouths. When they spot Dwalin, they smile, but it doesn’t stop Bilbo from lifting his hand to Ori’s mouth, or Ori from licking it clean. Dwalin’s cheeks immediately stain when he realizes that he’s walked in on something very _intimate_ —dwarves are messy eaters, but they don’t feed each other unless leading to other things. Perhaps hobbits are different, but there’s a sensual look in Bilbo’s eyes that says this is _exactly_ what Dwalin thinks. 

Dwalin grunts a stiff, “Sorry,” and turns to leave. But they both pull their glistening fingers out of their mouths to whine in protest.

“Stay,” Bilbo chirps.

“You can stay,” Ori mewls, and it’s phrased like a polite offering but said like a plea.

Bilbo promises sweetly, “We’ll try to be have.”

“Not that dwarves are very good at that,” Ori murmurs, smiling sheepishly. 

The rational part of Dwalin’s mind still tells him to go, but the rest of him feels compelled to stay. They both look _delicious_ , half covered in shadows and half lit with the sun through high windows, flushed and disheveled and lounging back, their mouths open and wet from busy tongues. He’s had the odd fantasy about each one, couldn’t help himself, but the two of them together is a fatal combination that he can’t resist. He’s always liked small, pretty things, though he’d never admit it aloud. He finds himself falling on his ass to sit not far from them, while they return to their task. 

It’s an awkward situation. There’s no good reason for him to be there; they don’t offer him the honey yet, not that he’d eat it plain anyway. They just turn back to one another, Ori smearing a yellow line across Bilbo’s chin and leaning in to lick it away. Bilbo’s eyes flutter against his cheeks, mouth releasing a soft moan, and Dwalin fidgets. It’s not open sex, but it’s certainly not innocent, and they make the act of eating very lewd. When Bilbo turns to kiss clean Ori’s lips, Dwalin blurts, “I didn’t know you two were together.”

Bilbo smiles and tilts his head around Ori’s, mouthing at Ori’s cheek while Ori moans, “How could I resist someone so cute and sweet?”

Then it’s Bilbo’s turn to murmur, “And I was so pleased to find a marginally courteous dwarf with a love of letters...” Ori nips at the tip of Bilbo’s pointed ear, his hands resting along Bilbo’s plump thighs. As Bilbo splays his little fingers against Ori’s chest, he sighs, “There’s only one problem...”

He doesn’t say what it is. It takes a moment for Dwalin to notice, busy staring at their mouths, teasingly brushing over one another before turning away. Finally, Dwalin swallows, grunting, “What’s that?”

“We’re both too gentle,” Ori says, turning to pout at Dwalin while Bilbo nuzzles into his shoulder and slips greedy hands down his stomach, across his legs. With a dramatic sigh, Ori adds, “We never get the _rough_ love we want.”

The temperature in the barn has suddenly spiked dramatically. He simultaneously understands why they invited him in and doesn’t believe it. It can’t be real. He stares at them both, trying to determine if this is some sick joke, until Ori crooks one finger back through the honey and holds it out to Dwalin in offering. 

Even wary, Dwalin leans closer, but before he can lift his hand to Ori’s, Ori pulls away to smear the honey along Bilbo’s throat. Bilbo mewls, face tilting aside, and Dwalin watches Ori deftly unfasten the white buttons of Bilbo’s shirt, parting the fabric to give more room to paint. When Bilbo’s chest is half exposed, Ori dribbles another line of honey down past his collarbone, just between his flat breasts. Dwalin’s breath sucks in. 

Bilbo asks, deceptively polite, “Would you like some?”

Some _what_ , Dwalin doesn’t need to ask. He looks between them, sure this is a dream. Ori, usually timid but still a dwarf, places the next glob of honey on his lips, then leans forward, hope dancing clear in his eyes. 

Dwalin remains stunned for maybe half a minute, then lunges forward suddenly, slamming them together so hard that Ori nearly goes toppling over. Bilbo squeaks in surprise, Ori’s cry muffled, as Dwalin shoves his tongue right between Ori’s open lips. He can taste the sticky sweetness on them, but it isn’t that that holds him. He’s fantasized of this too often, but they never matched the real thing. 

Ori tries to kiss back, but by the time he’s gathered himself, Dwalin’s taken control, leaning in to wrap one arm around him, crush him in tight. Dwalin kisses fierce, fast. When he pulls back, Ori’s already panting, but Bilbo’s keening desperately, and Dwalin turns and bends to lick the honey from his neck. Bilbo’s delight is instant, and he leans forward and clutches to Dwalin’s shoulders while Dwalin’s tongue runs down his chest, tasting sugar and the salt of smooth skin, softer than a dwarf’s and nearly hairless, but nonetheless pleasing. Ori’s the one to pull him away, whimpering for more attention. 

Dwalin pushes the honey pot aside haphazardly, hurriedly, half surprised it doesn’t topple over. He doesn’t need the pretense now he’s got them, though it was a thinly-veiled excuse from the start. He may as well have walked in on them rolling around naked. That’s what he’s going to bring them to if they don’t stop him. They only encourage him, leaning in from either side and fighting for purchase on his lap. He deals with Ori first, because Ori’s more dressed. One hand on either side of the bottom of Ori’s tunic, and Dwalin rips it right over his head, Ori getting tangled in it and blushing when it’s gone. But he still looks ready to go and still tries to kiss Dwalin after, fingers threading in Dwalin’s beard. 

Bilbo’s shirt is too fiddly for him, and Dwalin winds up tearing two of the buttons off in the process, but for once, Bilbo doesn’t seem to mind. Maybe they’ve finally toughened him up. When Dwalin pushes Bilbo back to wrestle off his trousers, he goes easily, wearing nothing underneath, blushing up a storm and covering his face but still pressing eagerly into Dwalin’s hands. 

Dwalin looks back at Ori, only to find Ori’s trousers around his ankles and his hand behind himself. Dwalin can tell by the look on his face exactly what he’s doing. It answers Dwalin’s unspoken question about how far this can go, made clearer when Ori moans, “You’ll take us, then? Fuck us rough?”

Shivering from the anticipation alone, Dwalin growls, “Yes.” Then Dwalin shoves Ori down by the shoulders, and Ori lets himself fall, his legs spreading in the air. His short, pink cock slaps against his stomach, his ass now exposed to show one thick finger stuffed between his cheeks, squeezed inside his hole. Dwalin needs a minute just to _stare_ , and then he grabs Bilbo’s forearm and drags Bilbo over. Bilbo follows obediently and lets himself be shoved on top of Ori, chest to chest, with their tight balls sandwiched together and their cocks disappeared between. Both of them have nice, round asses, plush and ripe for the taking. Just looking at them makes Dwalin impossibly hard, though he’s been stiffening from the moment he sat down. He eyes Ori’s fingers as he asks, “Do you have anything not sticky?”

“There’s some oil in my bag I took from Nori,” Ori offers, and now he sounds a little shy, since they’re down to it. Dwalin finds the bag not far from the honey and fishes inside, until he finds what he’s looking for. By the time he’s got the bottle out, Ori’s already managed two spit-slicked fingers, though it’s Bilbo Dwalin pours the oil over. Bilbo squeaks and squirms, looking over his shoulder and making Ori moan as they writhe together. Dwalin has to make a conscious effort to concentrate on his task, lest he spill himself too soon from just the look and sound of them. 

Bilbo mostly holds onto Ori as Dwalin rubs the oil between his cheeks, until Dwalin grunts, “Hold them open, lad.” Then Bilbo snaps to obey, grabbing one fistful on each side and spreading his cheeks apart. It gives Dwalin a pretty view of his puckered hole, glistening but impossibly tiny. If it weren’t apparent that Bilbo’s already with a dwarf, Dwalin wouldn’t think he could ever fit inside. His waiting cock drives him on to try, and he swirls the blunt tip of his finger around the entrance, trying to coax it open. Bilbo moans, bucking back, and Dwalin mutters like soothing a pony, “Easy.”

Bilbo tries to still but still squirms here and there. Dwalin does his best to be thorough, though quick, rubbing and stroking Bilbo’s tight ring of muscles until it flexes open enough to push one fingertip inside. Bilbo cries out, but before Dwalin can think to stop, he whimpers, “ _Yes_ , oh, _please._ ” So Dwalin worms his thick finger deeper inside, pushing in the oil, until he can move it slowly in and out. Then it’s time for a second digit, and he stretches Bilbo open, his other hands sloshing the oil down to help Ori’s fingers. 

Ori whines, “When are you going to touch me?”

But Dwalin can only growl, “Be patient.” He doesn’t think he’ll get a chance to finger them both—he won’t last, not this first time—so Ori’s own hand will have to do. As soon as Dwalin thinks Bilbo’s ready, he pulls his fingers out, despite Bilbo’s reedy protests.

Settling back, he looks at them. Ori’s got his furrowed hole open wide, red and dripping oil, Bilbo’s almost as stretched and blinking. When Dwalin slaps Ori’s fingers away, they obediently withdraw, and Dwalin pulls his cock out of his trousers, rubbing it with another dose of oil. Both Ori and Bilbo are breathing hard and trying to press their asses back against him. Because he just touched Bilbo, it’s Ori he lines his cock up to, but he asks to both of them: “Ready?”

They cry, “Yes!” nearly in tandem, a slew of pleas behind it. Dwalin doesn’t wait for those. He shoves inside Ori’s ass, grunting instantly at the spasm of _pleasure_ it brings him. Ori’s tight, hot, slick and soft and sucking him deeper, and he sinks gradually inside to Ori’s desperate scream. He can feel Bilbo’s round ass wriggling against his stomach, but Dwalin waits until he’s balls-deep to pull out again, all the way. 

Before either of them can say a word, he plunges right into Bilbo, somehow even tighter and stiflingly warm, fluctuating wildly around him. It takes longer to get all the way inside, and Bilbo cries out the whole time, voice hoarse and broken, his curly hair stuck with sweat to the back of his neck. Dwalin doesn’t have the luxury of bearing over them, so he only holds onto one of Ori’s thighs and Bilbo’s waist, the two of them intertwined. When Dwalin pulls out again, Bilbo whines loudly. Dwalin shoves right back into Ori, pleased with his aim, especially when Ori shrieks in obvious pleasure and tries to buck up into him, making Bilbo bounce. 

In a merciless rhythm, Dwalin fucks the two of them at once, alternating rapidly but hard and deep each time. It gives him a spark of pride that he can still manage it—he hasn’t lost his touch over the years. Bilbo and Ori writhe about, but he holds them as much in place as he can, and their cries only urge him on. The sight of them is gorgeous, the sound just as much, the smell of sex slowly permeating the air. But the best part is the way they _feel_ , so _tight_ and _good_ , and suddenly he can’t imagine how he waited so long to fuck them—he should’ve had them both over that too-tidy table all the way back in the Shire. 

If he could reach their cocks, he would; he’s usually a generous lover, but this doesn’t allow well for it. He needs his hands holding them in place, but it doesn’t seem to matter. They rub themselves off against each other, Bilbo coming first with a ragged cry. Dwalin can tell from the way his ass flexes wildly around Dwalin’s cock, though Dwalin’s too into the rhythm to linger in it. He keeps going, fucking Bilbo right through it, and Ori follows shortly after, his arms reaching up around Bilbo and his flushed face dug into Bilbo’s shoulder. Still Dwalin goes on, until it’s all too much, and he follows last. He bursts between them, pulling out to share the load, and lets it paint both their rears. Ori and Bilbo moan hoarsely and wriggle as they’re splashed in it, but they can’t get away. Only when he’s spent his last drop does he let go of them. 

After a moment of just the three of them panting hard, Bilbo rolls off, though maybe Ori pushed him. Lying side by side, Dwalin’s two shy lovers look up at him, both dizzy but happy-looking. They’re red and sticky with twin messes pooled over their stomachs and down between their thighs. Bilbo’s the first to speak. 

He murmurs, awestruck, “That was _amazing_.”

Ori moans in agreement, though can’t seem to find the words to say it. Dwalin’s in the same boat. He sits back on his ass again, his cock hanging out but otherwise fine. There’s probably a bucket of water they could clean off with around, but he doesn’t have the wherewithal to find it just yet. 

Instead, he offers out two arms. One by one, they clasp his hand, and he draws them both into his lap. They can’t completely fit, but it’s enough for each to sit on one leg, both groaning sorely but not pulling away. Instead, they snuggle into him, nosing against his chest and shoulders and looping their arms around his middle. He feels like he’s struck gold.

He still grunts, just in case, “I’m sorry if I was too rough.”

But Bilbo only laughs, and Ori moans, “No, you were perfect!”

“You’re so _strong_ ,” Bilbo adds appreciatively, a glint in his eyes. Maybe it was more than adventure that called him out onto this journey. Dwalin’s not quite sure what he’s done to their relationship, but that’ll be a talk for another time. 

For now, he falls back into the hay, dragging them with him, one on either side with his thick arms around them. They lie like that together, cuddling in the afterglow, until the neigh of a passing horse reminds them they’re not alone, and they wander off to clean, discussing a pleasant future.


End file.
